


High Roller

by SugarGlaze



Category: Drifters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: F/M, Semi-Public Sex, Strip Poker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 08:09:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26968780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SugarGlaze/pseuds/SugarGlaze
Summary: A close friend once told her: poker is a lot like sex. That same friend ultimately betrayed her, but Petra sincerely agreed with him on this – position was everything. Not to toot her own horn, but she was damn good at both.
Relationships: Butch Cassidy (Drifters)/Original Character(s)
Kudos: 5





	High Roller

A close friend once told her: poker is a lot like sex. That same friend ultimately betrayed her, but Petra sincerely agreed with him on this – position was everything. Not to toot her own horn, but she was damn good at both.

Right now, for example, she was dominating.

“Shit! I reckon I fold.” Butch tossed down his cards with a grumble and leaned back in his chair to watch the rest of the game. If there had been money involved, he would have been flat on his ass by now.

Kid knotted his brows and sat his cards face up on the table. “Me too. I ain’t got nothin’.”

He shot a curious glance to the woman at his left. It was her turn – she was bored to tears – but so far, all she did was stare at her recent hand and bounce her foot like a bobber floating on the water. Kid wasn’t sure, but he reckoned she was about to win again. When her lips curled up into a devious smirk, he knew that his gut feeling had been right.

“Full House, boys. Looks like this round goes to me, ne?” Petra sat down three 9s and two 6s as she laughed softly. Butch held a look of pure shock, which made her laugh harder.

Kid chuckled; he’d never seen anyone play as good as her before. “Well, if that don’t take the rag off the bush. Three hands and we lost every single one. Yer pretty good at buckin’ the tiger, miss.”

“Hvala ti prijatelju (thank you my friend). It was nothing more than good luck I’m afraid.” She was lying of course. Poker was a combination of skill and luck – Petra just wasn’t about to give away her secrets.

The outlaws might have had years of experience over her, but she had position. The difference between winning and losing millions depended on who acted last; who had this position at the table. Too bad money wasn’t involved.

_Not like it would do me any good here._ Petra gathered up the cards and shuffled them. She was going to purpose another game; there wasn’t anything else to do, but it was late.

Morning came early for the three. She and the outlaws were asked to find a fellow Drifter named Scipio, who had fallen from the back of their wagon during the retreat from the Black King and his army; a battle she only heard about. They were retracing their steps, but so far nothing was to be seen of him.

This was their fourth night out in the wilderness and Petra was starting to grow restless. Card games could only do so much for her. She was craving excitement; not the kind this world presented – slaying people and conquering villages – but the kind she got from robbing jewelry stores. Her purpose in this world was unclear, but Abe no Haruakira insisted that as a Drifter, she had the ability to turn the tide of battle for the humans. The only setback was, that until he found a task for her, she was on the bench.

That being the case, she decided to ride with the outlaws until told otherwise. Now … they weren’t terrible companions to travel with, but in the wake of spending time with them, Petra found that she favored them a little more than she ought to, especially Butch.

In a world where death could happen in the blink of an eye, desire for another person was ill advised.

Yet she didn’t care. Petra was almost convinced that she was imagining all this. It was all so unreal. Therefore, when the beat of her heart would speed up to the thought of giving herself to the gunslinger, she accepted it, rather than try to make excuses as to why it was a mistake. He seemed to like her well enough; his constant flirting was evident.

Life was meant to be enjoyed; that two-faced scumbag told her that.

Petra snorted in disdain and watched the cards cascade down into her open hands. She had enough of thinking about that dunce for one night.

“Who’s for another game.”

Kid shook his head. “I’m played out. Gonna hit the hay before the sun comes up.”

“Get on it then,” Butch voiced. He tossed back his hand in a lax wave as Kid stood up from the table. “I ain’t quittin’ until I’ve won somethin.”

“Better most of luck to ya.” He dipped his hat and muttered a brief good night to Petra as he crawled into the back of the wagon.

There was a moment of racket as Kid situated himself, then complete silence. Not even the crackle of burned wood and flames could be heard over it.

Petra was at last alone with Butch, yet she had nothing to say. Topic starters were not a strength she possessed. Rather than make one up, she divided the deck and reshuffled the cards again.

“You goin’ to play? Or is your nerve gone up in smoke?”

Petra snorted again – more girlie than intended. “Ne, I am still fit to whip your ass. Only wish there was something worth playing for.” She slipped Butch his cards, aware that his green eyes admired the swell of her breasts as she leaned over the table.

“I’m sure there’s somethin’ we can sweeten the pot with,” he stated thickly. He grabbed the buckle of his belt and tugged upwards, rearing his slender hips as he did. Regardless of whether he meant to or not, Petra felt her skin heat up. “You’ve been eyein’ this for some time; maybe you want it.”

_You have no idea._ Petra cleared her throat and masked her embarrassment behind the screen of her terrible hand. “Ne, I am not good with firearms; best to leave that to the gunslingers of our motley crew.”

“Shame. I would have liked to have taught you a little somethin’.” Butch glanced at his cards, but he made no indication as to whether the hand was bad or not.

Not like it mattered; once again Petra had the late position. She was going to analyze his every move until the showdown, then dupe him into believing that she had nothing. This gave her valid idea; a pot worth playing for.

“We have all night,” Petra baited. “Maybe I can teach you something; a game to be precise. One that people in my era sometimes play. It’s called strip poker.”

“What in the blazes is that?”

She figured that she’d better show him. Rearing up, she loosened her belt and set it on the table – the canisters of tear gas she was afraid would rupture if she wasn’t gentle enough with them. In addition, Petra included the hostler with her stun baton on it.

“The rules are the same as regular poker, except we make bets with articles of clothing or accessories that we have on our person. Normally you’d start off small, but if someone should raise the deal, then a piece of equal value must be offered. That, or you fold and lose the pot.”

“So, someone is goin’ to be buck naked by the end of this game?”

Petra nodded in agreement. “I put in my bet. Are you going to raise it, Mister Cassidy? Or do you not like taking risks?”

“You bet your ass I’m goin’ to raise it,” he laughed. Putting his duster on the table, he was left in his button-down shirt. He stared at her for a moment, before gesturing for her to place a higher bet.

Unfortunately for her, she wasn’t wearing a coat. Her hooded shirt had to be offered instead. This left her in a thin black tube top that provided him a clear view of her stiff nipples.

“Cold night, ain’t it? Sure ya want to keep doin’ this?”

Embarrassed as she was to be seen like this, Petra again nodded and glanced down at the board. With no way to check, because of the live bet that Butch played, she had to fold early.

_Just an unlucky hand,_ Petra thought bitterly. She gathered up the cards and quickly shuffled and redealt them. In her hand was a red 5 and a red 6; both diamonds. Betting her heeled shoe, Butch raised her again. This time he put in his own shirt and his gun holsters.

A frown marred her beautiful face.

Butch let out a boisterous laugh. “What’s the matter, pretty lady? I ain’t never seen you so mad before; like a rattlesnake about to strike.”

“Ne, I am not mad. Just never realized that you liked to gamble so high – _it’s a bit unexpected_.”

“I ain’t got nothin’ to lose. Helps that I ain’t got no shame either,” Butch admitted with a smirk. “On the other hand, you have a lot to lose … like that strategy you’ve been sittin’ the entire game.”

Petra grunted in shock; Butch again laughed.

“I noticed, sweetheart. Not a bad way to play; bettin’ small until ya had the pot. But what are you goin’ to do now? The gamble is high and I’m wilin’ to bet that you ain’t got the best hand. How do ya plan to win this one?”

_Sorry, but you are wrong._

“Just like this,” she chirped. Her lips curled up into a smirk as she laid down her hand. The board gave her the cards to make an Ace high flush.

“Nice hand,” he cooed while setting down his own.

Full house, kings full of fours.

Petra went pale. _How in the hell?_ She gave him a glare. “You were playing so terrible earlier; amateurish. What is your angle?”

“Just tryin’ to give ya what you want,” he admitted.

“And what would that be?”

Butch smirked from the corner of his mouth. “I think you know, lady. It’s a bit too late to be playin’ the coot here. The moment you suggested we play this game of yours I knew you were aimin’ to bed me.”

“What do you want then?”

She was optimistic. Her face was hot as an oven, but maybe he wanted her just as much as she wanted him.

“For starters … what I’m owed. You lost some clothes, and I want them.”

_Very well._

Petra stood and moved closer to him. She slid between his open legs and grasped the bottom of her top, then slipped it over her head. The cold air made her instantly shiver.

“Now what? It’s very cold out here.”

He said nothing and offered his lap for her to sit on. The lewd way he patted his crotch made Petra bite her lip in anticipation.

She sat down and rested her legs at his side. A sigh of relief left her as Butch warmed her with his hands. His fingers danced up her slender sides, then separated at the base of her ribs. One hand slid behind her back; the other caressed her breasts.

“I thought you wanted to play until you won something,” Petra cooed. His calloused fingers felt so nice against her soft skin.

Butch again smirked from the corner of his mouth. “Who says I haven’t already won?”

He leaned forward and blew warm air across her nipple. When it peaked, he took it into his mouth and sucked gently. The lovely woman on his lap moaned in reply. Her slender hips bucked against his and her fingers slid into his hair, pressing him closer to her chest. A content smirked pulled at the corner of his lips.

As the outlaw was busy, Petra removed her hand from his messy hair and brought it down to the front of his pants. She unfastened his belt and pulled the zipper down. He pulled away from her chest and generously lifted his slender hips, shimmying out of them; his cock sprang free – no underclothes to keep her from touching him. His breath hitched as her hand enclosed around him, giving him a stroke, then another. Her thumb skimmed over the engorged head of his cock, spreading precum over his taut skin.

For fuck’s sake she wanted him.

“Yer turn; them stockings next,” he murmured.

Petra opted not to correct him – cotton-lycra leggings were a social norm in her era – and removed them; panties she never wore on the job and unfortunately, she died before the job was done.

“As smooth as silk,” Butch mentioned as he cupped her bare pussy; his palm he pressed taut against her clit.

She moaned softly. Carting around a straight razor had its uses. Petra rocked her curved hips against him to enhance the sensation, but he pushed a finger into her wet hole, forcing her hips to stutter and still; she sighed in bliss.

“Please … it’s been so long.”

Butch removed his hand and grabbed her hips, leading her into position over him. She rested the head of his cock against her taut hole and sank down to the base; her eyes rolled back. Wanting more, Petra slid her arms over the outlaw’s shoulders and rocked her hips, bouncing her lower body on him.

He swore and took control of her movement, thrusting hard into her over and over. Petra had no option but to cling onto him and endure it; her release was looming quickly, having not been active for a long time. She wanted to last; to revel in the pleasure that was twisting in her stomach, but she wanted so bad to come undone. And she allowed herself to.

She moaned out and buried her face in his unkept hair, figure quivering from her release as Butch pounded into her. He came soon after inside her and sank in exhaustion, easing from her. Petra was fucked out of her mind from the release of endorphins, but felt him unexpectedly tense up. She leaned back in alarm.

“What is it?”

Butch swore. “I forgot about askin’ ya if you had a condom. Them things are expensive.”

“You scared me.” She sighed in relief, thinking he may have regretted having sex with her. “I had a procedure done; one to prevent me from having kids.”

She liked children, but knew she’d never be able to protect one with her line of work.

Butch put aside the issue and slid his hand into her hair, tugging her closer. She rested against him and shut her eyes; he was too warm.

“I’m beat; don’t know ‘bout you.”

Petra was out. She didn’t even notice the fire had went out as darkness consumed her. No dream was this damn good.


End file.
